Possessions A Few Days to Remember 21
by sarapals with past50
Summary: Continuing the story of the Grissom family when two curious children open a box and questions arise about certain things from the past and causing a little angst in another. Tiny bit of sweet stuff by the end!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Usual disclaimer--don't own anything, however we did think up Bizzy, Ava, Annie, and Will Grissom! We are ahead of our own schedule, so here's the first chapter of next story! Enjoy!!_

**Possessions Chapter 1**

One of the girls lifted the box from the shelf. It wasn't meant to be hidden—a simple wooden box stained a dark brown, a few careless scratches and worn places on its surface. It had been around as long as either could remember; once, at a very young age, the girl holding the box had asked her mother if she could have it.

Her mother had taken the box from her hands—it had seemed heavy—and placed it on a higher shelf. "No," she said. "This belongs to me—some things I want to keep."

"I want to see what's in here." The child said as she jumped out of a chair.

"Be careful!" Her sister hissed. The girls were almost mirror images of each other. Last year, in an effort to look different, one had cut her curly hair to her shoulders while the other's hair trailed down her back in long tangled waves barely tamed by the butterfly clips she wore.

The box shifted and both girls gasped before it settled back into her hands. She stepped backwards to a desk, looked up and decided it would be better if she placed it on the floor, shielded from the doorway by the desk. They wanted privacy and their mother's desk served that purpose. And, since she was away, they knew what they were doing would be their secret.

They settled more under the desk than beside it. Sun from the open windows provided plenty of light for the room and they could hear voices from outside; their brothers were playing ball and their voices meant the girls were safe from prying eyes. Of course, their older sister was the quiet one. She could slip around on cat's paws and be right behind one when least expected. However, they knew she was reading and once her head was inside a book, she was gone for hours.

Their mother's absence and their father's outside work meant they had time to do whatever they wanted. A casual trip upstairs with no particular purpose had led them to this room and the box. Their thoughts were often so similar that neither could say who had the idea of looking in the box.

The two girls looked at each other—brilliant blue eyes and mischievous grins on their faces—one nodded. "Open it."

The brass fasteners had dulled over the years but were easily lifted by small fingers. Hands from both girls went to the handles.

"Annie, I got it down, I get to open it!"

Annie, the one with the long hair, pulled her hand back to her lap. Her lips formed a pout for a brief second, before she said, "Well, open it. Don't take so long!" She whispered, more out of frustration than her wish for secrecy.

Her sister, Ava, giggled and kept a hand on the top of the box. "What if it's gold and jewels? Or what if it is bones and gross stuff?"

"Mommy doesn't have a bunch of jewels! And why would she have bones and junk?" She kept her hands nervously twisting together in her lap. "Maybe its love letters from old boyfriends!"

Ava rolled her eyes. "Daddy is the only boyfriend she ever had. She says she loved him forever!" The look on her face, a slight lift of her eyebrow, was one of condescension causing her sister to scowl. As twins, they were affectionate with each other; at the same time competition on any level was quick. With her words, she pushed the top, carefully, as both leaned over to view its contents. An exasperated sigh escaped both mouths. There were no jewels, nothing sparkled, no bones or gross stuff. Ava slumped, saying, "It's just papers and stuff."

Annie's hand went inside the box. "I'm going to see what these are." She lifted a brown envelope and turned it over. "It's not sealed." She upended the packet. "Old pictures." She picked up a photograph and handed one to her sister.

"Do we know these people?" Ava held a photograph of two adults leaning against a car with a small girl between them.

Annie looked at the picture she held. "This is Uncle Greg and Uncle Nick—that's Mom and Dad and Aunt Catherine." Her finger tapped each person. "And that's Warrick." She knew everyone even though she had never known Warrick Brown in his life. "This is before us."

She turned her attention to the one held by Ava, shaking her head. "Don't know those people." She took the picture, "I think that's Mom as a little girl. It looks like Bizzy."

The other photographs scattered around them as both reached into the box for something else. Old photographs had little interest to them. Annie brought out a folded piece of paper and Ava reached for a well-worn small book.

"This is some old poem," Annie said as she read a few sentences. "I don't like poems. This one says 'I can't help now but wonder what your brown eyes were concealing…'" She made a face, wrinkling her nose. "Ugh!" She folded the page and placed it on the floor.

Ava flipped pages in the book. "This is some old travel book." She turned to the cover. "Costa Rica, 2008. That's a long time ago." She opened the book again and found two faded airline tickets stuck between pages, a dried leaf, a smaller paper with numbers written on it, and two photographs. "This has Mom's name on it." She replaced the tickets and studied the photographs before laying the book among the other photographs.

Annie rummaged in the box and found a stick of wood—a forked twig, not much larger than a new pencil. She giggled as she showed it to her sister and placed it on top of the book. She passed a rolled newspaper to Ava and brought out another envelope.

Ava opened the newspaper finding more than one clipping in the roll. She spread the papers across her leg, wiggled around, and handed several clippings to Annie. "What is this?" Both girls peered at the faded black and white newspaper.

"It's a car—upside down. See the wheels." Annie's finger traced the faded image. She squinted her eyes trying unsuccessfully to clear up the photograph. Her finger went below to the caption and article. She read, "Las Vegas CSI Sara Sidle survives kidnapping by The Miniature Killer. The serial killer is responsible for a number of deaths and known for leaving detailed scale models of the crimes, named The Miniature Killer after it was revealed earlier this month that Las Vegas Police have been investigating multiple murders since the Izzy Delancy death months ago." She looked at her sister whose wide eyes and open mouth showed her astonishment. Annie continued, "Sidle, age 35, was found miles from the scene having escaped entrapment during last night's flash flood. She is recovering in a local hospital. A suspect has been apprehended." She dropped the paper into her lap.

"This is Mommy," Annie pointed to a small postage stamp size picture at the bottom of the article.

_A/N: Thanks for reading--leave a review for it!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Possessions Chapter 2**

Ava took the newspaper and read what her sister had just said. "She was kidnapped!" Surprise and astonishment conveyed in her voice.

"Shhh—Bizzy will hear and make us tell her!"

"We could tell her—she doesn't know either, I'll bet." Ava whispered.

Ava returned to reading. "It says she was kidnapped!" Her blue eyes widened. "See what those others say!" The other clippings were unfolded; each one another photograph or more reports of the same event. The girls took turns reading the half-dozen articles reporting and describing the story with varying details. Annie was the first to sniff as she read to her sister.

"Mommy could have died!" She sobbed, her fist wiping her eyes. As soon as Ava realized her sister was crying, tears came to her eyes.

She gathered the newspapers, rolling them together, breathing quickly as she wiped her eyes with her arm. "Don't say that, Annie. She didn't die—Daddy wouldn't let her!"

"We shouldn't have looked," her sister protested. She reached for the photographs, the book, the folded paper. "Put it all back," she insisted.

Ava shook her head. "No, I'm not. We are going to see what else is in here!" Her hand went inside the box. "Look, here's a necklace." She pulled a chain from the bottom. "Oh—it's a rosary." She held it up to the light. Both girls were familiar with the Catholic prayer beads used by their neighbors. "Here's another one—it is a necklace with a cross." She slipped the chain over her head.

Annie pulled her legs against her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees. Tears ran down her cheeks and dripped from her chin. "Ava, put it back—I wished we had not opened it." She buried her face against her knees as her shoulders shook.

Her sister, hoping to quiet the sobbing, held up a small white card. "This says 'from Grissom'—that's Dad." And even though her eyes glistened with tears, she managed to smile. "There's a lot of stuff in here—not just newspapers." She pulled another folded paper out. "Here's another poem! And a heavy book."

Annie sniffed. "I don't want to read a stupid poem, Ava. Put all of this back!"

Ava dropped the objects in her hands, huffed a breath, and leaned to her sister. "We've already looked—we didn't even know about Mom getting kidnapped and there's probably other stuff in here we don't know. I'm looking. Stop being a cry baby and help me look!"

Annie wiped her eyes and scrambled to her feet. "I'm getting Bizzy." Her sister shrugged her shoulders; she had found a small book filled with handwriting she recognized.

~~Grissom had completed a couple of hours of work on his hives without interruption. His two sons went from bike riding to ball playing staying close by or following him as he worked. He chuckled as he often did when thinking of his family. Most men his age had grandchildren older than his kids and while he didn't play ball or ride bikes with his, they did other things—worked on an old car, for instance, or sometimes helped him with his bees or an experiment—and they were good, well-adjusted boys. He watched as they played ball; Eli, older and taller, easily out-played Will, but he also adjusted his handling of the ball as the two passed it back and forth to meet the younger boy's abilities.

Eli was their oldest child, arriving in their home before the arrival of the twins, and adopted the next year. The color of his skin set him apart from his brother and sisters but in all ways he was as true a child as the others. He had caught Sara's smile when Eli began to pinch his nose as he thought; they had also noticed Eli's interest in cars and for several years, they had worked on an old car. And Eli and Sara seemed to have an uncanny mechanical ability for making the engine run.

Their youngest child, Will, was running in circles around the basketball hoop—the similarity between father and son was always a surprise—the way he walked, the way he held a pencil, the color of his eyes and hair, the dimple in his chin was so accurate, so precise, that the child appeared to be a genetic copy. But Will was his own person, unlike his father in temperament, calmer, with a quick wit, unruffled by his sisters. Sara called the two boys her "bookends", and secretly, she still called Will her baby.

His daughters were in the house; he had left them reading with a promise of pizza for dinner. He knew Bizzy would read all afternoon—she had one of those thick English novels to finish. When Grissom thought of his oldest daughter, or when he could observe her without detection, he saw his wife in a younger mold. In six months, Bizzy had grown, passing through the stage from girl to woman, still a child but rapidly changing. The soft dark curls that played around her face, the smile on her face was almost identical to her mother's. Like Sara, she dressed simply without the excesses her sisters loved. Her long legs and arms, the graceful ease of her movements added to her resemblance to her mother. She had been very young when they realized her grasp of mathematics far exceeded her age. Reading, comprehension, use of words came next—she was their truly gifted child.

The twins, who were more obstinate and willful than the other three children combined, could get into trouble and cause more turmoil in a few minutes than the others did in a year. In the past two weeks, they had moved their belongings to an upstairs bedroom, then back downstairs to a shared bedroom with their sister. Last week they had invited five friends to spend the night and forgotten to ask permission until two of the girls arrived. Since their birth, he had been amazed by their angelic appearance and it was all a deception.

He shook his head as he walked to the house, smiling, thankful his mother was no longer living to remind him how the twins got their personalities. Maybe Ava and Annie were reading or watching a movie. Everything appeared peaceful; Sara would be satisfied when she arrived home later tonight, he thought. She had been away for three days and everyone was well-fed, beds were made, the house was in reasonable good order, and no one had stitches or bruises or rashes—all had happened during her previous absences. He grinned again as he thought of his wife.

Grissom had always known his wife was brilliant—a near genius if he placed a name on intelligence—even before she worked with him. Having four children in five years, adding Eli by adoption, keeping their lives running smoothly while working in a very specialized field was more than most people could have accomplished. But Sara did it with phenomenal organization and a smile. For five years she had worked and researched on a project that was receiving accolades from other researchers all over the world. This trip had been made to finalized results for presentation.

He glanced at his watch noting enough time to shower, get pizza in the oven, and get the house ready for Sara's arrival. She would be pleased that everything had gone so well in her absence. He stepped inside the house; a parent's intuition or that sixth sense or feeling that something was amiss occurred to him as he closed the door.

_A/N: Thanks for reading--and your reviews! This one will move faster than the previous story. _


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thanks for reading!_

**Possessions Chapter 3**

~~Sara had managed to sleep on her cross-country flight and woke to see the brown, dry landscape below of the current state of the American west—drought, she thought. Her excitement over the completion of this research brought a smile to her face. She settled back into her seat; she found it easy to smile as she thought about her life. By accident, or design, or divine guidance, she was happy—her children lived a life she could not have imagined in her own childhood when each day was filled with confusion, turmoil, and uncontrollable events. When she and Grissom married, a page turned; no, she thought, a book had been closed and they had begun a story of their own making.

She smiled as she thought about the first time she had left her husband with five children. Two ended up staying with their neighbors when three had gotten a severe case of poison ivy. The girls had been covered with ointment, red and blotched skin smeared with white cream, their eyes swelled and their hands in gloves. Grissom looked equally as disheveled without the rash, trying to keep the girls from scratching themselves and finding it nearly impossible to do so.

On her return from another trip, she had found her baby boy, who was long past being a baby, covered in bruises and scratches on his face and stitches above his eyebrow as a result of a bike accident. The child's lesson had been "Never look back while going fast!" and Grissom had learned to insist on riding on paths, not to make your own.

For this trip, she had prepared enough food for five days, left a list of projects and chores that should keep everyone busy, and made sure there were books and movies to entertain. This morning, she had called before she boarded the plane, talked to everyone and was assured that all was well. No broken bones, no dead pets, no stitches, no one complained, and, best of all, she would be home in a few hours with some exciting news.

~~Grissom called out one name, "Bizzy!" Hearing nothing, he called the other two girls, "Ava! Annie! Where is everyone?" He knew they had not left the house. He shouted again standing in the middle of the living room. A few seconds passed before he heard movement.

"We'll be down in a second!" Bizzy briefly appeared at the top of the stairs.

His brief uneasy feeling disappeared with her words. "I'm taking a shower, then we will fix pizza." He headed into his bedroom.

Bizzy quickly returned to the upstairs office. "Okay, Dad is taking a shower." She paced the room where her sisters sat on the floor surrounded by the contents of their mother's box. Her fingers raked through her hair as she walked; her face clearly showing distress. "I don't know what to do—Ava, you are the one who started this! Put all this back in the box. Annie, you need to wash your face." Her eyes rolled as she looked around. Her sister had cried for half an hour while both girls told her what they had read. Ava had held a small book, a journal—one written by their mother—about a trip on a ship she had taken years ago. Bizzy had snatched the book from her sister's hand when she started reading the first line. She knew she should not have looked at the words; she knew a journal was private and personal but her eyes had skimmed the first page. The words she had read—a few sentences—were enough for her to know this was a part of her parent's life she knew nothing about. The date on the first page was the year before her own birth.

In a few hurried minutes, everything on the floor was in the box. Bizzy slid it back in place just as Annie reappeared with a dry face, her shirt splotched with damp circles.

"Just keep your mouths closed about this," Bizzy instructed. "I need to think."

"Why can't we say we looked?" Ava asked.

Bizzy turned to her sister, her palms upward in a motion so similar to her mother's that both sisters immediately recognized unknown serious consequences of what they had done. Unsure, confused by their sister's reaction, they quickly nodded agreement. Annie sniffed.

"Stop, Annie. You two are always getting in trouble—doing stuff without thinking." Bizzy's voice was a whisper yet infused with an emotion her sisters did not recognize. "We are not talking about this—understand?"

The girls nodded again. Ava started to say "I don't see…"

Bizzy cut her off. "You should not have opened Mom's box. If she wanted us to know about things, she would have told us." She pointed to the door. "We have to help Dad—and if you breathe a word about this…" Her unspoken threat was usually enough to keep them in line. She had never had to actually come up with what she would do to them.

She knew Ava was a slower reader, reading every word, and she had to decipher handwriting in the journal. But Bizzy had learned how to scan a page with her eyes and get the substance of its content in seconds. To her, it was similar to solving a complicated math problem. And what she had seen on the first page scared her—her stomach had developed a knot, her lungs did not want to breathe—and the realization of a secret, troubling past of her mother had consumed her thought process. To a child who had never heard harsh words between her parents, had rarely seen her mother cry or heard her father's voice in anger, the words she read had burned into her eyes.

In the first lines, Bizzy had comprehended an emotional upheaval in the half finished sentences. 'I've left the only person I've ever loved,' 'I thought he loved me—now there is no one,' 'no more risk,' 'a relationship in stasis withers,' 'walk away.' She fought back tears—she would not cry like Annie—as she tried to think, yet the words kept churning inside her brain. The last sentence she read before closing the little book had frightened her more than anything else—'since my father was killed.' The words only added to her unhappy confusion.

_A/N: Next chapter up soon! Thanks for reading!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Possessions Chapter 4**

Ava and Annie were already downstairs; they had not read the journal but had cried over the newspaper clippings. Bizzy sat on the top step, trying to rationalize the words written by her mother; she did not want anyone to know how upset she was. She knew—her mother had never told her—but she knew she had been born six short months after her parents married. She had done the math several years ago as her parents celebrated an anniversary. Later, her dad, realizing something was wrong and correctly deducing the reason, had hugged her and explained how he had asked the woman he loved to marry him over a bee hive and a bee had stung her. Her mom, he explained, had postponed marriage until they knew they had made a baby. His explanation had been uncomplicated and easy and they had laughed as he cuddled her on his lap and she knew without doubt that he loved her in a special way—different from his other children. But neither would ever say the words.

But opening that book, reading the words written by her mother in the year before her birth, had opened an abyss in Bizzy's ordered world. How could her mom have written those words? How could she have been on a ship without her dad? The pages of the book had been crammed with writings that made her think every page was like the first. Her mind stumbled trying to make sense of it all. And the last 'since my father was killed' meant nothing to Bizzy yet in the context with the other sentences, she knew it was part of the bewildering puzzle. She was so deep in thought, scrunched over with her head in her hand, she did not realize her dad was standing at the foot of the staircase.

"Bizzy, sweetheart, you want to help us?" He asked, a crooked smile on his face. "Everything okay?"

Her answer was to join him, trying to smile as tears burned her eyes. "Yeah, I thought—my head hurts a little."

Her sisters seemed to be back to their usual noise, chattering as they opened drawers, clanking plates together, laughing as if they had not been crying thirty minutes ago. Bizzy's head hurt so bad she could barely think; her stomach churned, and when her dad asked her to place a pizza in the over, she nearly vomited, tasting bitter fluid at the back of her throat. She leaned against the oven door for a second, trying to will her stomach to calm.

"Bizzy, what's wrong?" Grissom's hand was on her shoulder. "Are you sick?"

"No," she stammered, before realizing she was ill. Her chin trembled slightly. She said, "Yes, I think I need—can I lie down?"

Grissom nodded and she ran to the bedroom. He turned to the other girls who stood watching, eyes big and mouths open. "Is there anything I need to know, girls?"

Two head simultaneously shook as their shoulders gave the slightest of shrugs. Before he could ask another question, the back door rattled and banged as Will and Eli entered, teasing each other, juggling a ball and bouncing it once before maneuvering it to a basket beside the door. As the door closed, the phone rang and Sara announced she was in the car and heading home, saying "Save a slice for me!" when Grissom told her of dinner plans.

Pizzas were on the table and four kids seated before Grissom had time to check on Bizzy. He found her curled into a ball, under covers, her pillow damp from tears, her arms circling her waist.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong? Is it your stomach?" His hand felt her forehead as he brushed back dark hair. "Has your stomach been upset?" He could remember only a few times the child had been sick enough to go to bed.

She wiped her eyes. "It—it just hurts, Dad. I don't know why." Then she buried her head into the pillow as she cried, her body shaking.

Grissom's hand wiped across his face as he tried to think. No one else was sick; there had been no signs or symptoms of anything earlier in the day. Suddenly, he thought he understood the reason for this sudden sickness—her period. Dear God, he thought, had his sweet daughter gotten her first period while her mother was away.

"Bizzy—have you—I know you know about monthly cycles—I guess—I think you might call them periods."

His child grew still and quiet under his hand. That was it, he thought, now what was he supposed to do. Then he felt her head shake underneath his hand. He was sitting on the side of her bed as he reached for her, arms tightening around Bizzy's childish body as she let him move her to his lap. Her arms went around his neck.

He kissed his daughter, saying "You want to tell me why you are sick?" Instead of an answer he felt a sigh and a heartbreaking little sob against his shoulder. This was so far from the usual personality of his oldest daughter, he was at a loss as to what he should do. From the time of her birth, when he held her as a tiny newborn with a mop of dark hair and delicate arch eyebrows, he knew her blue eyes would be his but the rest of her was Sara. Within a month, her eyes would fix on him with what did seem cognizance, though everyone said babies were not supposed to do that.

"You will make her a daddy's girl," Sara had warned. He had grinned.

His life had already changed by then yet in the moments after the birth of his first child, he knew life would never be what it was. His child, this daughter who he thought would be their only child, hiccupped and whimpered.

"Can't you tell me what's wrong?" He asked.

Her head shook and more tears wet his shirt.

"Has someone done something to you?"

Her hand left his neck and wiped her face. "Oh, Daddy—I can't—I don't know what to do!"

He could not imagine what had come over her in a few hours. He had left her reading a book—maybe the story had brought on these emotions. He knew she read novels far above her age level.

"Mom will be home soon. Do you think you can tell her what's wrong?"

With his question, Bizzy raised watery eyes. "No—no—I can't tell her—not Mom!" She sobbed and sniffed. "I can't tell Mom!"

Grissom had to close his eyes. Years ago, he had seen this look on her mother's face, the corners of her mouth turned downward, tears flooding her eyes. Sara had been in the depths of intense emotional distress when he had tried to ease her pain; he had not succeeded that day and he wasn't doing much better now.

"Bizzy, is there anything I can do?"

She shook her head. "I love you, Daddy." She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and lifted her shirt to wipe her face. "Daddy, even if you aren't my real daddy—I'll love you always." Her whispered words murmured against his chest.

Sara was going to have to monitor the novels Bizzy read, he thought. He held her against his chest, finding it difficult to control a smile tugging at his mouth. He could not imagine how or why she thought this.

"Sweetheart, you are as much of me as my right arm—you are my daughter, my flesh and blood—my first daughter, my first child. None other can take your place." He hugged her close, not entirely understanding why this subject had caused such an emotional breakdown. "You know you can talk to me anytime—about anything. Your mom, too. As you get older, there will be things you need to talk about—you come to us. Understand?"

Bizzy nodded.

"Sometimes I have a hard time believing you are growing up so fast—makes me feel old!" He said.

This caused her to lift her head. "Old? You, old? You can never be old, Daddy!" She wiped her face again. "I do love you," she said as she wrapped arms around him again. She wanted to tell him more, to say she believed what he said, but the bits of sentences in her mother's journal confused her enough to prevent her from asking questions.

"I'll bring you something to eat, okay? Let me check on the others and I'll be back." Grissom tucked his daughter back into bed, promising to keep her sisters away for a little while.

_A/N: Thanks for reading! (and reviewing!!) Another chapter tomorrow! _


	5. Chapter 5

**Possessions Chapter 5**

Grissom found most of the pizza had been eaten, the table had been cleared, and the three youngest were sprawled in the playroom watching a favorite television program. Eli was cleaning the kitchen and waiting for him.

"What's the matter with Bizzy?" The look on his face was one of concern; like Grissom, he knew Bizzy was seldom ill.

"She's fine," Grissom said. He glanced at Eli realizing the boy wanted more in the way of an explanation. "She's growing up, I think. Things bother her," he shrugged, "I guess it's a woman thing."

He got out cheese, tofu, and eggs and stirred up an omelet, sprinkling the top with a handful of herbs. Eli poured a glass of orange juice, unrequested, but knowing Grissom was preparing a tray for Bizzy.

"Thanks," Grissom said as he plated the omelet. He practically had to cut it up and put it in Bizzy's mouth to get her to eat. No matter what he said, she didn't respond except to shed tears. He left her in the darken room with favorite music playing, trying to convince himself this episode would quickly pass.

~~ Sara had driven this route thousands of times over the years and the nearer she got to home the more the landscape returned to familiar surroundings. She had lived in this one place longer than she had lived anywhere. Her children had been born into this rural neighborhood and they thrived. They all bloomed and flourished in the everyday consistency of knowing 'home' was here.

Her own childhood had been so confused and disconnected from any form of stability that she had little reference to a normal life. But her family had broken that cycle; they were happy kids, with parents who loved each other. She wanted to speed up, to travel the two lane road driving a little faster, but she did not. Twilight on a curvy farm road was not for speeding. Finally, she spotted the old mailbox of her neighbors. Grissom, she thought, was going to build them a new one; it was time for the red-rusted metal one to retire. She slowed and turned into their driveway, graveled from the road to near the house where a paved pad provided parking and a play place.

Sara still missed their dog. Hank had always met any visitor, every return home with a slobbery bark and wagging tail. They talked about getting another one but memories of Hank were too fresh to bring in a new dog.

The garage door opening had been heard and before she rolled to a stop, she heard the noise of her kids. Eli was first, followed closely by Will, both taking her bags and hugging her; Will would have loved to be picked up—she knew this by the way he wrapped legs and arms around her—but he settled for a double arm hug and whispering how much he had missed her. He would always be her baby—the one she risked her health to have and the one who was Gil Grissom's clone.

Annie and Ava quickly appeared behind Will. These girls were born from her body and every day after their birth, she silently expressed amazement at the workings of genes. They resembled their father—no doubt of parentage—but they were mischievous little girls who played on their looks, loving and loveable. She and Grissom had to establish strict rules for them and, most of the time, it worked. They did provide a sort of distraction to an otherwise quiet household. She gathered them in her arms with their giggles and wet kisses.

"We missed you, Mom!"

"Have you been good girls?" This was a question Sara never had to ask her other children. Their response was to bounce up and down as their father arrived, hugging her and lifting her carry-on case. She gave the girls a shopping bag with the instructions to share.

"Missed you the most," she whispered. Immediately, she noticed the absence of Bizzy—four kids, four hugs, five counting Grissom. "Where's Bizzy?"

From Grissom's grimace, she knew something was wrong. "She's—she's in bed. I don't think it's anything to worry about," he whispered as the others entered the house ahead of them. "She's feeling—I think it's a girl thing. She asked if I were her real dad." They had stopped in the walkway between house and garage.

Sara's hand covered her mouth. "Her real dad? What brought that on?"

He shook his head. "A book? I don't know. Everything was fine until we were in the kitchen. She couldn't eat, said her stomach hurt. When I went to her room…" He related the conversation, the crying. "She's still in bed—you better go find out what's up." He kissed her letting her know she was missed; she responded.

"I'll see if I can figure this out, babe. You take care of everyone else—they all have a present in the bag. The crossword book is for Bizzy."

She left everyone else and headed to the girls' room. There were additional bedrooms upstairs, but no one moved into the rooms on a permanent basis. Her daughters shared this big room and Eli and Will remained in the same room they had shared since Will's birth. She chuckled quietly, thinking of all the space in the house—at least their children no longer crawled into their bed at night—rarely got into their bed, that is.

Sara knocked on the open door to announce her presence before walking to Bizzy's bed. The child was covered to her chin, but awake. Sara sat beside her.

"Hey, sweetheart," she whispered as her hand touched Bizzy's face finding it cool but damp. "Your dad said you were feeling bad. You want to tell me what's going on?"

Whatever reaction or response she expected, it was not the one she got. From her tear streaked face, Sara knew Bizzy had been crying and when Sara sat beside her, the quiet tears broke into sobs muffled by turning her face into the pillow. The girl's body shook as she cried, but she made no attempt to push her mother's arms away or to protest as Sara slipped under the covers with her.

Sara's instincts took over as she soothed her daughter's hair, whispering comforting words for whatever was causing such an emotional turmoil. She was puzzled and almost certain it was no story from a novel. She pulled Bizzy into a comfortable embrace, cradling her head against her shoulder as if she were a baby.

"It's okay, sweetheart," she must have said a hundred times before the crying slowed.

The first words out of Bizzy's mouth were "I know, Mom. I didn't mean to, but I found out. I know Daddy can't be my real dad." Her words were spoken between chokes and sobs, and hiccups. "He said he was—he thinks I'm his real daughter, I guess. Oh, I wish I had never asked him! Now he knows too."

Sara was as confused as her daughter. She remained quiet trying to think why the child had decided this. She had never known a father as involved in the lives of his children as Gil Grissom was. He had been devoted to Bizzy—his little Bizzy Bee he called her before birth—from the day her blue eyes opened to his. But before she could think of a response, sounds at the door caused her to raise her head.

_A/N: Hope to add a chapter tomorrow, early! Enjoy--appreciate all the comments! _


	6. Chapter 6

A/N:_ A brief note about Hank, the dog! Hank lived a very long life enjoying his family and doing what dog's love to do. He was nearly 15 years old when he passed quietly in his sleep. A family funeral was held and he was buried in the family pet cemetery. All notes of sympathy and concern were appreciated!_

**Possessions Chapter 6**

Grissom stood in the doorway with Ava and Annie in front of him. Sara could see the shadows of her sons behind him.

"I know what happened," he said. He pushed the twins in front of him. "It seems we have some explaining to do."

Sara noticed Ava's hand was closed around something hanging from a chain around her neck. The group of five seemed to move as a single unit to the center bed and when Grissom sat down, the boys did too. The twins ducked their heads; Annie had wiggled her hand into her father's.

"Okay," he said. "Who wants to run with this story? Bizzy, as the oldest, do you want to tell what happened today?"

She had sat up when the others arrived, but shook her head. Silent tears were already running down Annie's face.

"Ava?"

The child shuffled, twisted her hand, keeping one on the small object around her neck. Several minutes passed with only the sounds of seven people breathing. Sara knew it was the first time in years the house had been this quiet.

"We didn't mean too." It was Annie who broke the silence. "We just wanted to look." She nudged against Grissom and he placed an arm around her shoulders. "We looked in your box, Mommy, and Ava put on your necklace and we read about you being kidnapped." Her eyes were running with tears while Eli and Will suddenly became more interested in what was being said.

Sara's eyes met Grissom; she quickly looked away. She had recognized a twinkle of carefully controlled amusement in his serious expression.

"And we were crying and Bizzy came upstairs—she got mad at us for looking." Ava said as she edged to her mother's side. "We didn't mean to make her sad and we put it all back. Except for the necklace." Her fingers played with the necklace around her neck. "I forgot I put it on—I didn't mean to take it." She put her head against Sara's shoulder. "I'm sorry we opened your box, Mommy."

Sara's hand touched her daughter's hair and she lifted a curl. She knew this would not be the last time Ava would have to ask for forgiveness.

"Kidnapped!" Sara looked up to find two pairs of eyes watching her from the other bed. "Mom, you were kidnapped?" Eli asked. Obviously a kidnapping was much more exciting than sisters crying about a box.

"It happened a long time ago," Grissom said.

"She was kidnapped and Daddy saved her," Annie told her brothers, tears drying as she realized she knew more than her older brother.

"Cool!" Will exclaimed. "How did you save her, Dad?"

Sara rose from the bed. "It wasn't cool, Will. I remember it as being very hot—once the flash flood was over." She pointed down the hall. "Dining room table, everyone. The box is coming down so we can see all its treasure." She laughed, "I've forgotten what is in there." There was a sudden scramble to get to the table yet Bizzy lagged behind.

Sara placed her hands on Bizzy's face. "What else?" She knew the newspaper reports of a long-ago kidnapping did not bring doubts about her parentage.

"Your journal—in the box—I didn't mean to read it—only the first page," Bizzy whispered.

"Oh," Sara whispered. She had forgotten writing about her misery and depression and anguish of what she thought was lost. "Only the first page?" She asked.

Bizzy nodded. "We put everything back and Ava and Annie didn't read it."

Sara's heart nearly broke for the sadness surrounding her daughter; this sweet girl who loved everyone around her had endured several hours of fear and torment over a few words in a diary. She pulled her into a hug. "We're going to look at everything in the box, but the journal. You and I are going to read it if you promise one thing." Bizzy nodded again. "I want you to read the last page first—that's the real beginning."

Sara kept Bizzy in her arms, realizing again how fast her children were growing. She was still concerned by the questions about her "real dad"—how that idea had developed was the real puzzle.

~~The box was placed between Sara and Grissom. Eli provided a fingered drum roll as Will attempted to sing a pirate jingle as Sara rolled eyes at the two boys when she pushed the top back.

"I haven't looked inside in years," Sara explained as the children leaned over the table. She stopped moving the lid and looked at Ava. "Ava, the necklace came from a long-ago friend who was in a wheelchair. She was a lawyer."

Ava's fingertips traced the cross. "I like it."

Sara said, "I think it should be worn—you three have to share it, okay." The three girls nodded. "Let's see what else is in here."

"There's a poem," Ava said.

"Two," corrected Annie.

Grissom grinned. He could guess which poems the girls had found.

Sara lifted the top and found the forked twig. She held it up.

The boys grumbled. One said, "That's no treasure! It's a stick!"

"You kept that!" Grissom chuckled and shook his head; the children laughed, even Bizzy.

"I did. Kids, your dad sent me this stick all the way from Massachusetts with a cocoon attached! He had wrapped it with paper and put it inside a box—and that's all he sent! A stick and a cocoon! Did not even put his name on a card!"

Eli giggled, a laugh that indicated he had some knowledge of what females expected as a gift.

Will asked, "What was in the cocoon?"

His dad laughed, Sara suppressed a giggle. "It never developed," she said.

"It was supposed to be a luna moth—_Actias luna. _We watched it for weeks before giving up." He picked up the twig and twirled it between his fingers. "I missed you every day. How long has it been?" He touched her nose with the twig in an affection gesture. The kids giggled again.

Sara lifted the rosary out, "This was your grandmother's rosary." She held it for the children to see.

This time Grissom reached for the beads. "I didn't know you kept this." He let it slip between his fingers. "I had it in my desk for years." He winked as he handed it to Bizzy causing her to smile.

The roll of newspaper clippings was next, eagerly taken by Eli and Will who murmured words of "Cool!" and "Wow!" as they looked at the published pictures. Before they could do more than look at the pictures, Sara pulled several photographs from a small, sealed envelope.

A/N: _Thanks so much for reading--and your comments! _


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Enjoy!!_

**Possessions Chapter 7**

"Tell the story, Gil. They need to hear about these." Each photo was of a scale model—a sunroom, a living room, a kitchen, a metal table, and a red car.

The pictures were passed from hand to hand as Grissom told a story of a mentally ill woman who spent hours creating these miniature models before she killed someone in identical surroundings. "That's why the paper named her 'the miniature killer'—after these models," he began explaining.

Each child examined the photographs, turning them around, pointing to tiny details. "Is this real blood?" "How did she know how to do this?" "Is this one supposed to be Mommy?" "Where did she find all this stuff?"

Everyone looked up when Bizzy asked, "What happened to her?"

"She died but she spent a long time in a place where she could not harm anyone. She was a very sick person." Grissom tapped his temple. "Her brain didn't work right."

Eli had looked at the photograph in the paper and compared it with the photograph of the miniature red car. "She was one serious wack-o to think of all this!" He continued reading before he asked, "Why did she pick Mom?"

"How did you escape?" Ava asked. She and Annie were lying across the table, their heads almost touching the box.

Will managed to look over Eli's shoulder as the older boy read out loud. He asked "Did she tie you up? Did you have a gun and shoot her?"

"No," Eli said. "Mom didn't shoot her! How did you get away? This says you were found miles away."

Sara and Grissom looked at each other. This story was obviously more exciting to their kids than the actual event had been to either of them. Afterwards, Sara had incomplete memories of what happened and Grissom had related most of the events in a timeline from her disappearance to her recovery. It had not been easy for either.

Reaching into the box again, Sara rummaged among the papers until she found a scrap of cloth wrapped around an object. She heard Grissom's intake of air as she unfolded the cloth.

"I had no idea," he whispered.

"This is what saved me." The children leaned toward their mother as she held out a rearview mirror. "It reflected the sun," she explained. "And Uncle Nick saw the reflection and found me."

Five pairs of eyes, wide with expectations of an exciting story, moved from the mirror to their mother and then to their father; anticipation apparent in their faces.

Grissom knew what they wanted—the tale of a hero, or a heroine, in this story. He cleared his throat, reached for Will and placed him on his knee. His two daughters stretched across the table, elbows bent, chins in palms. He glanced at Sara who had an arm wrapped around Bizzy. She was smiling.

He began his recitation with a few facts including how much he loved their mother. When he told how the bad woman used a taser to make Sara unconscious, there was a collective gasp. They had seen how a stun gun worked on television. His narration recounted how Sara had fought with the woman when she regained consciousness, figuring out how to get out of the trunk, and jumping from the car. He added sound effects, used his hands to show where the taser had hit their mother. With only slight exaggerations, he used names of the people they knew—how Aunt Catherine had insisted their mom would use her brain, how Uncle Greg flew in a search helicopter, and Warrick, who they all knew to be Eli's real father, found the bad woman.

On the photographs, he pointed out how the bad woman had used hydraulics to lower the car, pinning Sara underneath, and leaving her in the desert.

"The bad woman thought your mom would die, but she didn't, because she's strong and smart!" He smiled at them, pausing a few seconds before he continued. "It began to rain—and your mom used her brain. She knew a flood would move the car enough for her to escape. One arm was caught but with her other hand, she managed to rip this mirror from the windshield and at the right moment, she swam free."

The five children displayed broad smiles. Eli said "I knew Mom was strong!"

"And smart," added Bizzy who had managed to sit in the chair with her mother.

Grissom resumed his story. "She wasn't rescued yet. She walked away from that car in the pouring rain—not knowing where she was or if anyone knew she was missing. And she used her brain again—she took the mirror with her. She tied up her broken arm and left a trail of rocks. But not just any trail of rocks—there're thousands of rocks in the desert. She stacked them in little towers."

Again, he exaggerated and embellished the story of how Sara survived the desert heat, the manhunt and capture of the bad woman, and the search for their mother, but not by much. He told of Nick seeing a flash of sunlight and a helicopter carrying their mom to the safety of a hospital where she was celebrated as a heroine—for surviving and being strong and using her brain.

"That's the story of your mom's kidnapping. The bad person was caught—she actually worked in the building where we worked—and no one knew how sick her mind was and how she planned and built the models. She picked your mom because," He stopped for a few seconds, suddenly unsure of what to say.

Sara said, "She kidnapped me because your dad had discovered who she was! And, if she took me, he would hunt for me and forget about her."

"You could have been crushed by a car!" whispered Annie, her eyes wide with fear or awe.

Sara smiled. "But I wasn't. Your dad was too smart. I used by brain to escape and he used his to find me and to find the bad woman."

Grissom leaned over and kissed Sara. "And I asked your mother to marry me soon after that!"

Group smiles broke across five faces. Annie and Ava looked at each other with mirrored grins. As if a secret signal passed between them, they sighed and arched the same eyebrow.

"What else is in the box?" Will asked trying to peer inside from his dad's lap.

_A/N: This story is 10 or 11 chapters--thanks for reading, we appreciate hearing from you! _


	8. Chapter 8

**Possessions Chapter 8**

Sara looked relieved. She brought out a thick book. "Your dad gave me this book for Christmas so I would learn about bugs. I didn't like bugs then."

Annie and Ava giggled. "You still don't like bugs!" Annie exclaimed.

"True," Sara said as she turned pages of the book. Inside, placed between thin sheets of white paper, were leaves, a fern, several flowers. Grissom looked amused.

"Your dad sent me a plant and I put a leaf inside a book. Later when he gave me this book, I started placing leaves and flowers inside." She turned more pages to show different leaves, most brown with age. She lifted a pressed flower, not much larger than a dime, and held it in her palm. "Guess." She directed her word to Grissom.

He was grinning. "The time Nick's truck was stolen—some local politician—you said the flowers were fake."

"And you brought this one to me to prove they were not!" They laughed, and because they were laughing, their children laughed.

Will's good manners kept him from reaching inside the box, but his hope for real treasures waned. "Isn't there real treasure," he asked.

Sara's hands went back in the box and found the only thing that might be considered a treasure by a small boy. She lifted an odd shaped object wrapped in white tissue paper. It had been hidden among papers and the girls had not noticed it earlier. She pulled back the paper to the sound of "ahhs" as a golden face mask came into view. She folded fabric points away to make a joker's cap and heard Grissom's chuckle.

"When?" he asked as she smiled.

Will's hands could not be still as he reached for this true treasure. "Is it real gold?" He asked.

Bizzy asked, "Where did it come from? France?"

"It was a gift—from a friend." She glanced at Grissom. Will held it to his face and giggled his little boy laugh.

More treasures came out—a small pottery globe with two lizards carved into the side. "This was the first thing we purchased for the first place we lived," Sara explained.

Next, she unwrapped a tiny wooden owl followed by a silver metal box with a physics medallion inside. Sara Sidle's name was etched onto one side. Each item was passed around, examined, questions asked about its origin or why it was in her box.

More papers were removed before Eli began to tease his sisters. "I thought there would be gold and diamond tiaras for Ava and Annie!" They scrunched up their faces in his direction as the others laughed.

Sara laughed, poked around a minute and brought out a smooth turquoise stone. "Here's the only real treasure in here, Will." She held out the stone and small fingers moved to touch it. "This came from American Indians who live in the Grand Canyon." She dropped it into Will's hand and he passed it to Eli.

"It's so beautiful," one of the twins said as it came into her hand.

"The river was the color of turquoise," Grissom said, remembering the trip they had taken.

"Can we go there?" Eli asked.

Bizzy had the rock in her hand and said, "They are the Havasupai tribe. Only a certain number of permits are given each year to tourists and most have to hike into the canyon."

"It's a beautiful place—maybe we should go back in a few years." Grissom looked around for agreement, finding everyone nodding.

Slowly the box was emptied; its contents spread across the table as five children managed to move closer to their parents. They giggled when their dad read a poem that he said had been written about a bull and again when he read a poem he called a sonnet. It puzzled four of them when their mother folded the sonnet paper and placed it inside a small book.

There were more papers—letters, an old prayer book, the Costa Rican tour book, Sara's high school diploma, old birthday cards, more photographs that gave little interest to the kids but Grissom placed them to the side, picture post cards, a few menus, a few shells, a rock, a car key, a folded scarf. The journal was slipped into Bizzy's hand; the turquoise stone and the mask were given to the boys to share.

"Mom, why did you keep all this?" Eli asked.

Sara was folding the papers, replacing most of them back into the wooden box. "Its things I wanted to keep." She held up the key saying "But I have no idea why I kept this key!"

"Your first car?" Guessed Eli.

Grissom turned the key over in his palm. "How long has this been in your box? I think it's a Volkswagen key."

Astonishment and a sudden revelation came over Sara's face. "My mom's car! I never knew what happened to it." She took the key, puzzled. "I can't remember how I got this key—isn't that odd?" She dropped it into the box. Certain items were given or claimed by the children; others were returned. Most of the papers—letters, the birthday cards, post cards, and diploma—went back inside. The box was closed and left on the table as children took possession of the treasures from their mother's past.

Baths, snacks, a quiet time before bedtime kept everyone busy for the next hour or so, and finally, calm settled on the household. Bizzy found her mother on the porch swing with the journal and several folded papers. Mother and daughter curled together.

"I had forgotten much of what I wrote in here, Bizzy," Sara said, marking her place with the papers. "The first page is very bleak—and the second and third," She tried to smile. "I'm letting you read this because you are mature enough to understand the emotions written in it. This was after Warrick died—it was a very sad time for all of us."

Grissom, fresh from a shower, quietly opened the door and made his way to the other side of the porch. He stretched across the swinging bed and opened a book.

Sara turned to the last page of the book. She said, "The last time I wrote in this journal was the day we—your dad and I—left Costa Rica." She placed the book in her daughter's hands. "Read it to us."

Bizzy read what her mother had written in a far-away place. The date was almost nine months before her own birth date.

_A/N: Thanks for reading! This one will be finished in two-three days! Thanks for the reviews!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Possessions Chapter 9**

From the journal: _"We have everything packed—much more than either of us brought. Gifts for everyone! A few people know we are returning. This time has been a whirlwind in a fantastic way—seeing and working in this environment truly clears the mind and soul. I think I could conquer Mount Everest and fly a space ship to the moon—I am returning with a new lease on life. I just made myself laugh. I am returning with a new life. Gil doesn't know. I don't think he knows—he hasn't mentioned anything. I'm officially late and I'm never late. Of course, I could be wrong, but nothing has ever delayed my period. So here I am, of an age when most women worry about fertility and I am going to have a baby. I think I'm having a baby. Gil is standing on our little porch—maybe I should tell him what I think, but no, it's better to wait until I know for sure. This wasn't in our plans, but then, if we planned anything, we would have never gotten together. I just laughed again—maybe it's the hormones! Why do I remember certain events so clearly? I have almost no memory of my kidnapping, few memories of when my father died." _

Bizzy stopped reading. "Mom, how did your dad die? On the first page, you wrote your father was killed."

Grissom's head turned in their direction, but he said nothing. Telling her children about their grandparents had troubled Sara with questions no one else could answer. He waited, unable to put words in her mouth.

"He was killed—by accident—when I was young. I was in the room. He had been drinking—he was drunk—and started a fight with my mother. She killed him before he could kill her."

"Oh," was Bizzy's response. She picked up where she stopped reading.

"_I can remember every time Gil has held my hand—that's what I remember about the last day in Vegas. He refused to answer his phone and held my hand. In the helicopter when I was found, I knew he was holding my hand and I would be okay. A hundred times my hand in his and I've always felt secure. When my daughter is born—and I know I'll have a daughter—(oh, if I have a boy, he can never read this!) I know he will be holding my hand! He is the only man I've ever loved—my one and only. I've always loved him and I always will. And here he is, telling me the truck is here to pick us up. Next stop—home—sort of. I'm happier than I've ever been."_

The next page was blank. Bizzy smiled at her mother. She said, "I thought Dad wasn't with you."

Sara hugged her daughter. "He didn't go with me, but he found me. One day, I was photographing monkeys—we were tracking and tagging those noisy little things all day—and I heard something, or someone, behind me. The little monkey was looking at something, so I turned around to find your dad!

"He was hot and sweaty and looked lost—wearing his old straw hat. I thought I had been in the heat too long—that he was a mirage! But then, the strangest thing happened." Sara dropped her mouth to Bizzy's ear. "He kissed me right there in front of that monkey! And I kissed him back—for a very long time!" Bizzy giggled.

Grissom lifted his hand and waved. Sara knew he had been listening to Bizzy.

"He had come to Costa Rica to find me! He said he missed me."

Bizzy said, "He still misses you when you're gone—right, Dad?"

Grissom sat up and waved for his daughter to join him. When she jumped up, she left the small book beside her mother. Sara followed her to the porch swinging bed. She watched as father and daughter snuggled together.

"Take a bath, Sara. Bizzy and I will talk before she goes to bed."

Sara kissed her daughter. "Good night, Sweetheart. You can finish the journal tomorrow, okay." She disappeared for a bath, thinking how quickly a child's ordered life can fall apart in innocent ways and be restored with simplicity and trust. She realized she had not had a bathroom break since the airport.

Grissom pulled his daughter into a hug. "You okay, Bizzy Bee?" He seldom reverted to the pet name he had given her before she was born.

She gave her father a smile so like the one of his wife. "Dad, I think I will not read Mom's journal. It's private stuff she wrote and I got all upset because I read a few words on the first page. She should put it away—some where safe."

Grissom chuckled. "No longer thinking I'm not your dad?" He looked into blue eyes so much like his own. "You know you have my blue eyes, but everything else about you comes from your mom."

"You're not mad, are you?"

"No, Sweetheart—not at all. You want me to tuck you in? You're still my little girl."

Grissom checked on each sleeping child, covered Bizzy, telling her he loved her, aware of the days ahead when she would become a teenager and their special bond would likely diminish. He loved all his children but she was special—the child most like her mother, the child whose arrival had changed his life in remarkable ways and he had discovered his heart could love in a new and different way.

His oldest daughter knew he loved her in a unique way and she secretly came to the conclusion this love began in a Costa Rican rainforest. She curled around her pillow and smiled. Her daddy had known her mom was pregnant because he knew everything, she thought before her exhausted eyes closed and she slept.

"I'll be on the porch, Sara." Grissom paused at the doorway of their bathroom. He raised a finger. "Don't move—I'll be back!"

**A/N:**_ One more chapter, tomorrow. We told a lie!! After we finished this one, and how it ends, we realized we had one more story to tell of our fictional Grissom family. I guess that's the best part of any story--getting to tell it! Enjoy--leave a review--we love getting your comments! _


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Last chapter! Read, enjoy, write a review! We thought this would be 'the end' to this series, but at the end of this story, we looked at each other and realized we had one more to write! The fun is in the telling!! _

**Possessions Chapter 10**

He hurried, picked up the journal from the swing, closed doors, turned off lights, and was back in the bathroom in minutes. He pushed the padded stool near the tub and sat down, the journal in his hands. Sara's eyes opened.

"This was quite a homecoming. I haven't had a chance to ask about your trip," he said.

"Trip was fine," she nodded at the book in his hands. "Bizzy didn't take the journal?"

"I think, after reading the last page—which, dear, was a brilliant idea—she realized your writings were private. And she realized her dear old dad was on the trip. She said she wouldn't read it. Her words—'put it some where safe'—to be exact."

He leaned forward and met Sara's lips, kissing her with a sudden passion matched by her own. Without effort, she was out of the tub and wrapped in a towel, finding his warm hands around her as he moved them to their bed.

"I miss you when I'm away, after all this time, I find it difficult to sleep without you," she whispered. She stroked his hair, kissed his eyes, moved fingers along his shoulders and followed her touches with kisses.

Grissom had always thought of the sea when making love to her, as though she were liquid moving through his fingers, waves of water rising around him. How many men have the same thought, all believing they are unique—a swimmer in a welcoming ocean, he thought? Here, within the arms of this woman, his heart beat, his life lived.

They had passed from fast, tumbling passion-driven sex to that time of infinite gentle touches and delicate motions. Yet each knew the other as well or better than their own body. Sara knew a feathery touch along his ear to the curve of his jaw while she moved her hips against his always brought a quiet moan.

Grissom had long recognized the gasp of breath she made when he touched her intimately, separating soft folds as he felt the rush of warmth against his hand. He breathed the intoxicating scent of the woman he loved as her leg moved over his, her foot sliding against his knee. Her fingers held his face to hers—later, he would please and take pleasure in other ways, but now she desired what made him a man, and he needed to be inside her. Their emotions, that overpowering desire of love, met in a combination that pleased and fulfilled both, resulting in a tangle of sheets around intertwined legs and exhausted breathing and tender kisses.

Sara had always called this time after sex "the most intimate act" of lovemaking and her hand played along his bare chest. He heard a low chuckle.

He asked, "What are you thinking?"

She kissed his shoulder, the place where his arm joined his shoulder, the place she always fit so perfectly. "I'm thinking about all the years—all the times—we've done this. How little you have changed from the first time we made love. The two little shells came from the beach that day. Looking in that box—why did I keep most of those things? I have you—that's all I've ever needed." She snuggled against him.

Grissom pulled her close and thought of the box of possessions—simple things she had collected in an earlier lifetime as mementos of events—jumbled together, yet distinct. He quietly said, "We are like those things—at one time, separate and dissimilar, but no longer. Together, we are the box carrying all the memories, the real treasures with us."

She sighed. "I love you, Gil." She raised her head to look into his eyes. "I love you for all you've done and will do." She kissed him and settled back against his shoulder. "I almost forgot—our research has been nominated for the Madam Curie Award for its use in retinoblastoma."

"Sara! That's terrific news—when will you know?" He kissed her forehead.

She nestled closer, wrapping the covers around them. With a yawn, she said, "I'm still on eastern time. In a month the award is announced and there is a ceremony in the spring."

She yawned again, her breath warming his skin as her body eased into a familiar and comfortable position against him. He could almost feel her drifting into sleep.

"A ceremony? Where?" His yawn met hers as his body reacted and adjusted to shared warmth and contentment.

Sara's slow breathing indicated she was already on the edge of sleep. She whispered, "Yeah—it's in Paris."

_Epilogue_:

Possessions or belongings or property can be identified as something one owns and Sara handed her possessions to her children and her husband on the night of her return. Realizing there were other things in her life that were more important or perhaps these things were best shared with others, she happily gave these mementoes of another time to those she loved. She had other boxes of memories—one for the early days of her marriage, another for each child.

_Will hung the mask over his bed, seeing in it the possibility of adventure and excitement. He knew nothing of where it had been or how his father had picked it up in an unusual house one night. He knew nothing of the woman who gave it as a gift for kindness beyond the usual sense of moral or ethical principles. It became a play thing used for pretend; Sara and Grissom shared a silent acknowledgement that perhaps this was its best use. _

_Ava and Annie, always wanting anything sparkly or glittery and finding little of anything of that sort in their mother's box, managed to get the smooth turquoise stone given to Eli and Will. They saw it as a fashion accessory—much more so than a rosary. The gold cross, which had given away their snooping adventure, was shared with Bizzy who eventually claimed it as her own. They did get the globe with the two carved lizards—after all the lizards were twins, Annie insisted. Within days, the two had forgotten most of the night, remembering the kidnapping story of their mother because she was the beautiful heroine who married the story's hero—their dad. _

_Eli let his sisters and his brother keep those objects they wanted and he asked for the medal with his mother's name engraved on one side. He hung it beside his bed and for several years, he used it as a talisman, a lucky charm, as he studied. Sara was the first to notice how he held it between the fingers of his left hand as he worked math problems. He also sat the small owl above his desk; Sara had described it as a gift from a professor and Eli liked the sound of "Professor Grissom." _

_The rosary became Bizzy's, as did the gold cross. She also asked for the tour book on Costa Rica and had her mother mark the place where she had worked in the rain forest. The child read the book from cover to cover—she would have asked for the entomology text, but she did not. She knew the book, as well as the pressed leaves and flowers inside, were special to her mother. She found another insect book that belonged to her dad and read it, marking pages, learning to ask questions that often puzzled him but together they found an answer or the possibilities of an answer. _

…When Bizzy entered the kitchen the following morning, after a late night and all the turmoil and muddle of her confused thinking, she found her mom and dad in the dining room looking at old photographs and reading the papers from the box. Both were laughing. She watched from the kitchen as they bent together, radiating some unconscious aura—something that Bizzy could not name, yet. Her mother had always been beautiful, but in the morning light, she looked younger, something pleased her, the child thought.

Her father—to his daughter, he had always been the most handsome man she knew—his white hair contrasting to her mother's dark head—laughed in a deep chuckle as his eyes rested on Sara. A thought struck Bizzy—they are like one person, never content without the other. She giggled at her thought causing both to look in her direction; her father motioned for her to join them.

A month later, Sara received an email followed by a telephone call. Their research had won the award. Paris, Sara thought, was such a long way away; she sent her regrets.

A/N: _Thanks for reading--now send us a comment, a word or two! We'll have a little Christmas fanfic ready soon--write what those CSI writers will not!! _


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